


Kiss It Better

by StormDancer, sunniskies



Series: Domestic 'verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, M/M, Nanny!Harry, Sickfic, unredeemable amounts of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/StormDancer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunniskies/pseuds/sunniskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't worry, I'm fine." Maybe if Harry says it enough he will be. He thinks he might be feeling a little better, anyway. Maybe. He hopes.</p><p>"Well just make sure of that, won't we?" Zayn asks, coming back in. He's changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and he scoops Bella up off the floor and onto his hip with an easy grin. "What do you say, baby girl? You gonna help Haz feel better?" </p><p> </p><p>Harry's feeling ill. Zayn and Bella take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> We own nothing! Don't show to anyone associated with 1D or anything.

Just because Harry is now Zayn’s boyfriend does not mean he is no longer Bella’s nanny. It’s one of the first things Harry insists on when they start this thing. He is Zayn’s employee, not just his live-in boyfriend. As nice as that sounds. He will go to work and hang out with Bella and do what he gets paid to do. Then Zayn will come home, and he’ll technically be off the clock, and he can hang out with his boyfriend and his daughter. (Zayn thinks he's being silly, but he likes Harry being silly).

So even though Harry's feeling like complete shit when he wakes up, he still has to go to work. Because it's his responsibility. Although it sucks that this was one of the increasingly few nights he spent at his own apartment, because that meant he had to drag himself up and into the shower and then drive the full fifteen minutes to get to work, as opposed to just rolling out of bed and going downstairs. Not that he would take advantage of Zayn like that. Of his employer. He definitely wants to call up his boyfriend and whine and take advantage of him in all possible ways. 

But he won't whine to Zayn, because he's going to see him in like fifteen minutes and he can wait that long. And he doesn’t want Zayn to worry, or tell him to go home or something. Zayn has some important meeting on some important topic (how was Harry supposed to pay attention when Bella was smearing peas on her face anyways?) that he's been talking about for days, he can’t stay home today. And it’s not like Harry’s dying or anything, he can take care of Bella.

So Harry drags himself out of bed and into the shower. He doesn’t even know exactly what's wrong with him. Maybe it's that flu that Bella's playmate had last week? Harry's too exhausted to think it out, just lets the steaming water run over him and tries to pull himself together. Hopefully Bella won't be in too excited of a mood today and they can just do a Disney movie marathon while Harry half-sleeps on the sofa. 

He catches a glance at himself in the mirror as he's toweling his hair off and cringes. His face is a sort of pale gray color and his eyes are red around the corners. He looks like shit, really. A beanie and some sunglasses are probably his best bet at not looking like death warmed over when he shows up at Zayn's. 

Of course, that disguise lasts about thirty seconds, because if he is sick he doesn't want Zayn kissing him, obviously, so he has to fend him off at the door, and then that sets him off-balance and he flails a little and knocks his sunglasses off by mistake before Zayn catches him around the waist to steady him. 

"You okay, babe?" he asks idly, already turning away because presumably Bella's playing in the living room, and it’s not like Harry’s clumsiness is new. 

"Yeah," Harry agrees, trying for the least articulate grunt he could do, because then Zayn won't notice his scratchy throat or the fact that maybe he's leaning into Zayn more than he usually would. But sometimes he forgets that not only is Zayn a dad, but he's also an older brother to siblings young enough for him to have taken care of; he knows the tricks. 

So Zayn narrows his eyes at him despite all of Harry's sneakiness. “You sure?" he asks. Harry tries his best to grin and look alive. Zayn just raises his eyebrows. 

"'m fine," Harry insists, and tries for another smile. "Where's Bella? You should go, you've got that thing—"

Zayn cuts him off with a hand to his forehead, as easily and bossily as if he were Bella. "Shit, Haz, you're burning up," he says. His hand is very cool against Harry's skin, but Harry knows himself and he knows he's fine, or at least can function, and he's not going to make Zayn take care of him. Zayn has his thing, and Harry shouldn't take advantage of Zayn’s concern for him to slack off of work. 

"It's nothing, just a little overheating," he counters. This time, he goes for a cheeky grin. "'cause you're so hot and all."

Zayn drops his hand and narrows his eyes even further. "Harry, you have a fever," he says plainly, staring at him altogether too closely. Harry sidesteps around him to go into the living room, shaking his head. Which only makes him feel like the room is spinning circles wildly a little. 

"You're overreacting, I'm fine!" Harry calls, plopping down cross-legged next to Bella. He hopes he isn't actually swaying back and forth because the walls are still being shifty and it's very unsettling. He focuses on Bella's block tower, giving her a friendly rub on the head. He maintains a safe distance though, he'd feel awful (even more than he does currently) if he gave Bella whatever disease he's been cursed with. 

Zayn hovers in the entrance to the room, still staring at him. "Harry..." he starts, apparently not knowing what to say. 

"Look, I told you I'm fine, alright? Just go to your meeting, I'll get breakfast started for Bella," Harry says firmly, stacking a block on the tower. 

Zayn huffs out a breath, but he disappears, so Harry lets himself sag, a little. Lets his head tip back and his eyes fall closed and sniffles just a bit. 

"Are you sick?" Bella asks, suddenly, and Harry jerks upright again. 

"Nah, I'm fine, love!" He exclaims, trying to put on as much energy as he can. "You Maliks, honestly." 

"'Cause you look like Geoff, and he had to go home early." 

"Don't worry, I'm fine." Maybe if he says it enough he will be. He thinks he might be feeling a little better, anyway. Maybe. He hopes. 

"Well just make sure of that, won't we?" Zayn asks, coming back in. He's changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and he scoops Bella up off the floor and onto his hip with an easy grin. "What do you say, baby girl? You gonna help Haz feel better?" 

"Yeah!" She giggles, and Zayn presses a kiss to her stomach before looking over her head at Harry. 

Harry knows he's gaping. Or maybe pouting. Or maybe salivating. It's hard when he feels gross and his boyfriend is looking hot and adorable but is also being ridiculous. 

"You have that meeting, Zayn," he says quietly. 

"You're sick," Zayn replies, like that's an answer. "So, Bella. What should we do to make Harry feel better?" 

"Make him soup!" Bella exclaims, clapping her hands together and bouncing in Zayn's lap. Zayn kisses the top of her head with a grin. Harry tries his best not to grin, which is made easier because he feels so rotten. But Zayn is being ridiculous. Not adorable. 

"I think that sounds just right Bells," he murmurs and stands up with her settled on his hip. Zayn focuses on Harry and he feels a shiver run through his spine that he suspects has nothing to do with his temperature. "And you're getting in bed." 

Harry feels swirly again. "But you're not going to work?" he asks slowly, looking up at Zayn from his position on the floor. 

Zayn sighs and crouches back down. "No I'm not, babe. I'm going to stay here and take care of you. Why is that so hard for you to understand?" 

"I just thought--" 

"Enough, Harry," Zayn cuts him off, and his voice is firm. "You're coming to bed and you're going to let us spoil you rotten for the rest of the day, alright?" 

Harry nods and lets Zayn pull him up with a hand, and is glad for Zayn's arm around his waist when he sways a little at the change in position. 

"Go get in bed, babe. I'll be up in a bit." Zayn’s hand massages Harry's hip gently. 

Harry nods, a little vaguely, and goes where Zayn pushes him. He hesitates a second at the top of the stairs—did Zayn mean his bed, or the guest bed, because would a normal nanny get their employer's bed?—but he stumbles towards Zayn's bed anyway. He's sick and he's tired and Bella won't know the difference and he wants to be wrapped in the warmth and scent of Zayn, wants the comfort of the familiar bed. He lies down—then gets up again a second later, because skinny jeans are uncomfortable to sleep in. So he grabs a pair of his sweatpants that he left in Zayn's closet at some point, pulls off his button-down and on the biggest one of Zayn's t-shirts he can find, even if it still pulls around his waist a little, and then climbs back into bed and pulls the covers up to his chin. When he inhales, it's like he's cuddling with Zayn, and that's enough to make him close his eyes and drift off. 

He doesn't know how long he dozes for, but he's woken by Bella's probably-meant-to-be-a-whisper, "Is he asleep?"

"I don’t know, babe. We have to be very quiet when we check," Zayn whispers back, actually quiet enough that Harry could have probably slept through it, then he hears two pairs of footsteps creeping across the room. 

If he had more energy, he'd keep his eyes closed then jump up with a 'boo!' when they were close. But he doesn't, so instead he just lets his eyes fall open and smiles up at the two faces peering at him. It’s just about his favorite sight in the world, those two lovely lovely faces looking down at him with all sorts of concerns and fondness in them. "Hey," he murmurs drowsily. 

"Harry!" Bella chirps. "We made you soup!" 

"Did you now?" he asks, and she nods vigorously, pulling herself up on the bed. Zayn sits down next to her much more carefully, balancing the bowl of soup carefully in his hands. 

"Yup! But I can't give it to you because I’’m not allowed near you in case I get sick," she explains. Harry pulls himself up a little, the blankets falling to his waist, and nods seriously. 

"Then daddy would have to take care of both of us, and who would take care of him?"

"Daddy takes care of himself," she giggles, and topples backwards into Zayn's side. Zayn only just manages to save the soup from spilling.

Harry gives Zayn a look that he thinks he could make cheeky if he had the energy. "Does he?" he asks, and Zayn rolls his eyes. 

"Just have some soup," he says, and hands it over. 

Harry honestly wasn't expecting anything more than chicken noodle soup from a can, but the scent coming from the bowl is rich and creamy, and it's definitely not chicken noodle soup. He blinks, and looks at Zayn. He's chewing on his lower lip, and he's never looked more like Bella when she’s not sure she’s done something right. "It's—it's what my mum always made, when we were sick," he explains, his hand going around Bella instinctively, like a nervous tic. "I tried to make it as mild as I could. If you don't like it, I think we have some Campbell’s..."

He will like this soup if it kills him, Harry decides, and brings a spoonful to his lips, two pairs of dark eyes following his every movement. 

He takes a hearty sip and it's lovely, tasting like cumin and chicken and other wonderful things, and he lets the warmth seep through his stomach. "It's great, Zayn," he rasps, and Zayn frowns down at him a little. 

"You look a bit pathetic, you know that?" Zayn smirks, but his eyebrows are still knitted up in concern. 

Harry laughs but it comes out as more of a cough, which builds into a fit of wracking, dry coughs, and he has to bury his face in the comforter to avoid breathing on Bella or Zayn. He feels the bowl of soup being tugged gently out of his hands, replaced by a cool glass, and another hand on his back. 

"Hey," Zayn murmurs when Harry pulls his face back up, wiping a few irritated tears from his eyes. "You're really sick, Haz." 

Harry shrugs in what he hopes is a nonchalant way and downs the water. Bella's staring at him wide-eyed, and she whispers loudly to Zayn, "Is Harry going to die?" 

Zayn chuckles at that and pulls her into his lap. "No, babe, but daddy does need to take good care of him ok? Why don't you go draw with those new markers?" 

Bella nods firmly in agreement and fixes a look on Harry that's not too far off from Zayn's critical ‘you're really not ok but pretending to be’ stare. "I want to give you a hug but I can't because of germs so I'm telling you instead," she says, stretching her arms as wide as she can. "You have to get better 'cause I want to play with you." 

"I will get better right away, Bells," Harry promises, noting that he seems to be losing his voice at a rather alarming rate. "You'll just have to have fun for me for now." 

Bella hops of the bed and scurries away to her room, and Zayn uses the extra space to slide in next to Harry, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling Harry tight up against him. 

Harry tries to scoot away. "You'll get sick too," he rasps. And he wasn't kidding about Zayn needing someone to look after him. For one, he doesn’t know who will feed them all. 

He hears, more than sees, Zayn's huff of breath and eye roll. "Shut up and cuddle, Haz. You're under strict orders to get better." 

"But—" a hand comes over Harry's shoulder to cover his mouth. 

"No talking; you’ll just lose your voice sooner. You’re only allowed to talk if you're asking me to get you something." 

It's sweet and lovely and Harry can feel his heart swelling in a way that's probably unhealthy, and he knows if he looked back over his shoulder he'd have stars in his eyes. So of course, he grins cheekily, knowing Zayn will hear the expression. "What if I want you to get me a blow job?"

Zayn's laugh is a breath of air against his skin and a tightening of his fingers around his hips. "Just go to sleep, Harry," he murmurs, "I'll suck you off when you get better. How's that for motivation?" 

It's pretty good, as far as it goes, Harry would agree, and means to say something to that effect. But Zayn's warm and cozy against his back, and his fingers are rubbing comforting circles around his hips, and Harry’s asleep before he remembers deciding to drop off.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Follow us on tumblr! [stormdancer](http://ridiculouslittleidiots.tumblr.com/) [sunniskies](http://foreverhazboo.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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